


Old Scars

by goodgonebetter



Series: RvB Red Team Week [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgonebetter/pseuds/goodgonebetter
Summary: The Red Team doesn't talk much about anything. Sometimes it makes things harder for our favorite lightish red soldier. Can our fearless leader help out?





	Old Scars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Red vs Blue so I hope you all enjoy! Also, one note; I don't know what time this story takes place, but whatever works man.

“And I want to see all of you here by dawn!” Sarge’s voice was gruff and loud as he let out his last command of the day.

“Yeah, yeah, see you at noon.” Grif spoke as he walked off, pulling off his helmet. His voice was lazy and low, a tone that sounded like he was perpetually sleepy. Simmons followed him and did the same, calling out to his commanding officer in his high-pitched voice that cut through the air.

“Goodnight Sarge!”

Lopez muttered a goodbye in Spanish, but Donut could just barely make out his words while the robot walked away.

“Nighty night Sarge!” Donut exclaimed in his usually cheery tone, but it was hard to tell if he said it loud enough for the older man to even hear as he was walking towards the watchpoint for guard duty. He didn’t respond so Donut just decided that he’d have to say it louder next time.

He didn’t take off his armor until he was safely in his room with the door locked. Slowly but surely, he took off each piece of armor and put it in its place on top of his dresser. When he was left in just his skin tight under suit he made his way to his bathroom. His was connected to Grif’s room too but the other soldier rarely ever used it so he claimed it for himself. After turning on the shower and stripping down, he stood in front of the mirror and got a good look at himself.

Scars were a part of being in the army. Everyone had them, Donut had seen most of his teammates’ own. Sarge had long thin scars on his chest and back that sort of resembled claw marks if you looked at them just right. Grif had a lot of scars on his arms and legs, some cut off by the skin that was replaced after he got hit with a tank. Simmons’ scars are either hidden behind clothes or were replaced by robotic parts. They all have scars littering their faces but for the most part they’re small and barely visible.

The scar on Donut’s face is not like that at all. It starts around his ear and spreads out over most of that half of his face, just touching the side of his nose. He doesn’t know how he can even see out of his right eye, though his vision is nowhere near where it used to be. The tissue is fully healed now and he’s so thankful for that. When it first happened, he felt like it was always bleeding and it drove him up the wall the entire time. But even if it doesn’t hurt to blink anymore, he can still feel the sting of the bomb when he presses his fingers to the skin a few shades lighter than the warm brown skin he was born with.

They didn’t really talk about that day, not even right after he came back with his new lightish red armor. They didn’t talk about how his right eye would just go blurry sometimes and he would run into walls and doorways on accident. No one ever mentions the fact that he can’t hear out of that ear anymore. Or at least, not when he can hear their voices.

He makes sure to listen now. He takes note of each teammates’ unique voice. How they dip or heighten when they’re put in certain situations. Sometimes he says things just to hear their reaction and get a rise out of them. He makes sure to listen to Lopez especially, so he can translate the robot’s words accordingly. He sometimes gets the feeling that he might not actually be hearing his robot teammate correctly, but he keeps trying nonetheless.

As the bathroom fills up with steam, he takes in the rest of his features. Bright eyes, that either look brown or green depending on the lighting in the room. Perfectly shaped lips (save for a small scar just in the corner) and bright white teeth that are all perfectly in place. His hair falls just above his eyebrows, the bottle blonde waves matted down from all the time he spends in that helmet. For a moment he thinks that he should touch up the black roots peeking out. Part of him doesn’t even want to bother because no one will ever see them.

He finally gets his fill of himself and steps into the shower, routinely cleaning himself. He makes sure to lather up with his rose scented soap that he made himself and scrub his body down. He washes his hair with lavender shampoo and finishes it off with a conditioner of the same scent. After he’s all clean he stays in the shower a while longer. Just to think.

He likes his team, he really does. They might not show affection like other people but they care about each other. They fight for each other. That being said, sometimes it’s hard for him to understand them.

Donut remembers the first time he ate with them all after his ‘accident’. No one said anything about it, but that just made it worse. He could _feel_ their eyes all over him. He had been a new recruit back then, so he figured it would get better with time.

It didn’t. They still stayed silent about it but every time he removed his helmet he could feel their eyes on him. It made him self-conscious in the worst way. Eventually he stopped taking off his helmet around anyone. They never talked about it.

They never really talked about anything.

After he got out of the shower he dried his body off quickly, brushing his teeth before he left the bathroom to get his clothes. He dressed in an old tank top and shorts and sat down on his bed. He wasn’t tired at all and figured he’d just lay around until he fell asleep. It worked for a while but then he just became restless. He need to get some fresh air.

Donut waited for a while until he was pretty sure everyone else would be asleep. Then, after putting on his favorite lightish red slippers, he opened the door to his room, looking both ways before stepping out. It had been a long time since he ever made it this far without his helmet on and it made him nervous. Still, he wanted to get outside. He made his way towards the roof and stepped out into the warm night air. He planned to just get a deep breath and run back to his room when he hears a voice come from behind him.

“Private?” Oh god, he forgot about the Sarge. Didn’t this man ever sleep?!

“Uh…”

“What in the Sam Hell are you doing out here in your underwear?”

He turned to the sound of the voice and caught sight of the red armor on the other end of the roof. He’s not too far, but Donut is surprised that he could hear the older the man from over there. That’s why he likes Sarge though, his voice is always loud and clear. He’s sitting down on the roof, shotgun in his lap.

“Just getting some fresh air sir!”

“Well if you’re out here, come sit down.” There’s something in his voice that makes Donut think he’s been waiting for someone else to come out so he won’t be alone. Sarge would never admit that though.

The younger soldier complies and walks over, making sure to sit so his scarred half is facing away from his commanding officer. The other man takes off his helmet as Donut sits down, taking a deep breath of air himself.

Sarge is handsome, Donut has always thought so. He keeps his gray and black hair short and his beard trimmed nice and neat. His eyes are a deep blue that seem to look right into your soul. There are a few scars on his face, the most prominent being a line on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t smile all that much but when he does Donut’s heart may occasionally skip a beat.

They don’t say anything for a while, just staring up at the sky. Donut did sneak a few glances at Sarge, but tried to not show off his face too much. A couple times he caught the older man doing the same. Eventually Sarge cleared his throat and spoke.

“You know, I’m not always the best with words. Unless, of course, I need to rile you all up before we face some dirty blues or save the world or something like that. But, I suppose I need to be the one to say this. Being your commanding officer, you know.”

“Yes sir?” Donut felt the same nervousness as before rising up in his stomach.

“When I first saw that scar of yours….I was angry. Not just the general blind rage I feel towards all blues, but anger at myself. You had just got here and we almost lost you. I barely knew you back then, but now that I do, I feel even angrier. When I see that scar I remember my own shortcoming, the only one mind you, I had as your commanding officer.”

Donut didn’t know what to see. Half of him wanted to retreat back to his room and never take his armor off and the other half wanted to hug Sarge right there.

“I think, in their own weird ways, Grif and Simmons feel the same way. They were there when it happened.” Sarge took another breath and turned to Donut, those blue eyes staring right at him. “But that ain’t your burden to bear. You don’t have to be ashamed of that ol beauty mark.”

“I’m not- I’m not ashamed.”

“When’s the last time you ate with all of us, out of your helmet?”

No answer.

“Listen, that scar is a trophy. You got into a fight with a sticky bomb, and won! I don’t know many people that can say that.” Sarge chuckled, a low noise that warmed Donut’s chest and made him smile too.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

“Course I am. Moral of this story is, never be ashamed of your battle scars. You survived. That means more than anything.”

“…Thank you. Thank you Sarge.” Donut was beaming now, fully believing that he was currently dreaming. “I guess I just got caught up in the mirror. I used to be real good looking, you know?”

“Still are in my book.” Okay, he was definitely dreaming now.

“Sir?”

“I mean, if you ask me that scar adds a little rugged handsomeness to that pretty face, princess.”

“Awww, Sarge!” Donut scooted closer to the other soldier, practically cooing. He might have bat his eyelashes, for effect.

Sarge was unaffected, rolling his eyes. He did have a smile on his face though so Donut chalked that up to a success.

“Get some rest soldier, training starts at dawn!”

“Yes sir!” Donut exclaimed, leaning in and kissing the older man’s cheek before he could protest.

“Good night!” He stood up and hurried back to his room, leaving a stunned and blushing Sarge on the roof.

As he was heading back to his room he caught Grif in the halfway. He was walking out of the room that was most definitely Simmons. Donut passed by him with a smile on his face.

“Ooo la la!!”

“Shut up Donut!”

When he made it to his own bed he got comfy underneath all his blankets. As he waited for sleep to fall on him, he ran his fingers across the scar on his face. He felt silly for ever letting it bother him now, still all warm and giddy from his conversation with Sarge. He liked his team, he really did.

They didn’t really talk about much. But when they did speak, it’s everything you need to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This collection is for RvB Red Team week because I love my Reds so so much! I hope you guys enjoy! If you like my stuff, check out my tumblr for more info: https://ajwritesit.tumblr.com/


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